Page 32 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

“No.” Marla tried not to panic. This was her baby. Hers. She had the right to hold him, to wake him from his sleep, to try to bond with her son.

“Quiet, sweetheart. Shh. Mommy’s here and everything will be all right,” Marla said, lying through teeth that couldn’t move.

Somewhere far off in another part of the house, a dog started barking like crazy.

“Great,” Alex muttered, raking stiff fingers through his hair. “I knew we should have let him sleep.”

Ignoring her husband, Marla slowly rocked side to side. “Just take it easy, James,” she said, though she felt like a complete klutz with her own child. Maybe he was hungry, or needed to be changed, or maybe he was just cranky and ticked off that she’d woken him. Her headache was hammering through her brain, but she wasn’t about to give in to the pain right now. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised the baby as she moved to a changing table and let his blanket drop to the floor. Placing his little body onto a tiny mattress, she fumbled with the snaps of his pajamas. All the while he screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, just hold yer horses, Jimmy boy,” an unfamiliar voice called from the hallway.

“Thank God,” Alex muttered under his breath.

The door to the hallway burst open and a slight woman with wild red hair and granny glasses bustled into the room. She cast a disparaging glance at Marla and without so much as a hello, took charge, almost bodily pushing her to the side. “I’ll take care of him,” she said with the authority of one who knows her position.

“And you’re?”

“Fiona. The nanny, Mrs. Cahill. Don’t you recognize me?”

Of course she didn’t and felt embarrassed as the woman tended to her son. Along with her curly flaming hair, Fiona sported large teeth that overlapped a bit in front, and white skin dusted with freckles.

“I’m sorry,” Marla apologized, the pain in her head beginning to pound. “I don’t remember much.”

“So I’ve heard. Everyone here’s been worried sick over ya,” she said with a trace of an English accent. “But don’t worry about it, yer memory, it’ll come back. My uncle’s did. He was in a skiing accident, nearly killed him it did, and when he finally came ’round, he was his old self again . . . well except that he never did quite get rid of that limp of his.” With incredibly deft and efficient fingers, she stripped the baby of his diaper, flung it into a diaper pail, whipped out another disposable from a drawer and amid a cloud of baby powder, had him changed, dressed again and was cuddling him on her shoulder within seconds. Worse yet, he actually stopped crying. “He’s a fussy one, he is,” she said, rocking side to side and holding the quiet infant as if he belonged to her. “Ain’t you supposed to be restin’ or somethin’?”

“Marla!” Eugenia said as she entered the room, a scowl of disapproval drawing her features together. “What’re you doing up?” She turned on Alex. “She just got out of the hospital, for goodness’ sakes. Fiona’s right. She should be resting.”

“Marla wanted to see James.”

“Well, of course, of course, but all in due time.” Eugenia turned concerned eyes in Marla’s direction. “The baby will still be here, you know. They don’t disappear, not for a good twenty years or so,” she chided, but there was a hint of steel in her soft words. “Now, Fiona, you’re to always use correct English a

round the children, you know that.” She glanced at her grandson and a prideful, beatific smile eased the little lines around her lips. “He is adorable, isn’t he?”

“He wasn’t too adorable a few minutes ago,” Alex countered, then grinned. “Just kidding, Mother. Look, I’ve got to run back to the office, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Look after my wife for me, will you?” he said to Eugenia before planting a swift kiss on Marla’s cheek and winking at his mother. Then he was out the door.

“Alexander doesn’t slow down for a minute, and this one,” Eugenia indicated the baby, “he’s going to be just like his father, aren’t you, little man?”

Fiona, satisfied her duty had been fulfilled, placed the baby back into his crib as Marla reached down and picked up the blanket from the floor. Carefully she tucked it around him as he searched for and found his thumb.

Eugenia was still beaming. “He’s special, that boy is. We waited so long and finally, finally, we have a Cahill to carry on the name.”

“You mean a grandson.”

“Yes.”

No wonder Cissy was so upset. “You’ve been waiting for one?”

“Let’s just say I consider James a blessing of the highest order.” She leaned over the crib and ran an age-spotted finger along his chin. “The highest order.”

“And Cissy?”

“She’s a blessing, too. Of course. All children are gifts from God.”

“But some are Rolexes and some are Timexes, is that what you’re saying?” Marla demanded, irritated beyond belief at the antiquated notion that females were less valuable than males. What archaic, deluded waters did that spring from?

“Of course not. Everyone has a purpose. Cissy’s is different from James, but no less important,” Eugenia said quickly, correcting herself as two points of color tinged her pale cheeks.

Marla didn’t believe her mother-in-law for an instant. No matter how she tried to rationalize it, Eugenia’s mentality was straight out of the Dark Ages.

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